It’s been a while since I read a novel featuring a blind protagonist. What with the holidays and busy work schedule and a TBR list that would take years to complete if I did nothing but read. But I promised to keep book reviews coming on this blog, and a short novel like “Girl, Stolen” seemed like a perfect place to get back into the swing of things.

Girl, Stolen

By: April Henry

Sixteen-year-old Cheyenne Wilder is sleeping in the back of a car while her mom fills her prescription for antibiotics. Before Cheyenne realizes what’s happening, their car is being stolen.
Griffin hadn’t meant to kidnap Cheyenne, but once his dad finds out that Cheyennes father is the president of a powerful corporation, everything changes – now there’s a reason to keep her.
How will Cheyenne survive this nightmare? Because she’s not only sick with pneumonia – she’s also blind.

Cheyenne

Cheyenne Wilder is a young woman who went blind in the same accident that killed her mother. The author does a generally admirable job of making her neither helpless and dependent nor otherworldly capable. She’s plucky and resourceful in some ways, frustrated and angry in others. There are far too many instances where Cheyenne fills the role of “helpful educator” – far too many to just be lulling Griffin into a false sense of security – but there are also poignant depictions of grief, frustration, and fear.

Cheyenne’s pneumonia seems to add an additional complication, until it’s dropped for reasons unknown (it doesn’t seem to really affect her mental capacity). As a blind reader, though, I’m glad the author chose to make Cheyenne emotionally and nuanced, with an additional “strike against” thrown in for good measure.

Some Plot Holes

It’s clear that April Henry did a lot of research on blind people. The skills many blind people learn – orientation and mobility, computer usage, life skills – are touched on with fairly good accuracy (though I wonder at the likelihood of a wealthy family sending a recently blinded teenage girl to train for these skills with middle-aged men). The stages of denial, grief, and frustration are well-drawn, but Griffin seemed too gullible and Cheyenne too resourceful given her weakened physical state. Also, the “bad guys” (with the exception of griffin) are drawn as big, angry and/or unintelligent, which made it hard for me to take them seriously. Also, to major corporations have presidents? I thought they had CEOS.

Light Read

There’s not a lot of heavy stuff in this book. In fact, there’s a lot more levity than expected. This is both a strength and a weakness. Most characters – human and canine – don’t act particularly believably in many spots, even while there are very poignant accurate portrayals.

Conclusion

It’s not a bad way to spend a few hours with Cheyenne and Griffin. Things tie up a little too neatly, but I found myself flipping through the pages. A little more research and less “education” might have made this a better read. But this reader found this book at just the right time.

3/5 stars.

I picked up this book during a period when I needed something light to read. Something very very light.

And I’m not really sure that’s what I got.

Love and First Sight

By: Josh Sundquist

In his debut novel, YouTube personality and author of We Should Hang Out Sometime Josh Sundquist explores the nature of love, trust, and romantic attraction.

On his first day at a new school, blind 16-year-old Will Porter accidentally groped a girl on the stairs, sat on another student in the cafeteria, and
somehow drove a classmate to tears. High school can only go up from here, right?

As Will starts to find his footing, he develops a crush on a charming, quiet girl named Cecily. Then an unprecedented opportunity arises: an experimental
surgery that could give Will eyesight for the first time in his life. But learning to see is more difficult than Will ever imagined, and he soon discovers
that the sighted world has been keeping secrets. It turns out Cecily doesn’t meet traditional definitions of beauty – in fact everything he’d heard about
her appearance was a lie engineered by their so-called friends to get the two of them together. Does it matter what Cecily looks like? No, not really.
But then why does Will feel so betrayed?

Told with humor and breathtaking poignancy, Love and First Sight is a story about how we relate to each other and the world around us.

What I Loved

As I read this book in audio format, I loved the narrator. he became Will. With the exception of a really horrible Italian accent for one of the characters, the narrator’s characterization was superb. As for the book itself, I’m thankful that Will is not a loner – he hangs out with the super-smart kids – and he’s a practical joker (as evidenced by Will’s response when he is asked to touch someone’s face). The author did an amazing job of recreating a situation where someone is treated differently because they are blind, but he doesn’t leave it there, showing Will (and us) that some people do “get it.” Will also seems to possess a certain amount of awareness about himself and the world around him, and yet he wants to be able to conceptualize visual information when he meets Cecily, whose photography hobby is a foreign world to him.  This book does ask important questions about vision, autonomy, independence, helicopter parents, even though I found myself vastly disagreeing with its conclusions.

But Mooooooooom!

I could devote an entire blog post to the real-life counterparts to Will’s mother. She is the embodiment of a helicopter parent. Mom packs Will’s lunch every day, braille labeling the containers, wanting to hover at every opportunity. She insists that he wear big dark sunglasses to school (unlike some more stylish options he can wear), and Will just seems to go along with it after he freaks out Cecily by unintentionally staring at her.

This meddling is not new. As a young boy, when another child takes advantage of Will’s inability to see, instead of teaching Will how to handle that situation, his parents ship him off to a school for the blind. Ten years later, Will is trying to find his way, and his mother is smothering him… until, suddenly, she isn’t? And Will realizes that her hovering is preparing him for independence? And we’re all somewhat dependent on each other? Um… what?

The Disability Cure Trope

When Will begins to regain his vision, his confusion and exhaustion are obvious. The author does a great job of describing in general how exhausting it is for a brain to completely re-wire itself to process things differently. However, unlike Mike May in “Crashing Through”, Will’s parents do the initial leg work with him and his identifying of objects. I had a hard time with the disability-cure-leads-to-happiness idea, particularly since Will was never certain he wanted the operation to begin with, and the idea that Mom and Dad are teaching him to “see” just rang hollow and like the author didn’t feel like doing some research.

Speaking of Research

There were some truly cringe-worthy research blunders in this book. For example, Voiceover reads textx, not Siri. While in some ways the author adequately described the dynamics at a school for the blind, and the frustrations of electric cars, he also completely misnamed someone who teaches the blind to navigate as an “Orienteering and mobility guide.” One of Will’s friends wants to help him and Cecily deliver the morning announcements at school, does a bit of research, and asks Will if he’s heard of a refreshable braille display (Will has, but doesn’t have one). Buddy is able to procure one (something that costs thousands of dollars) in a matter of just a couple of days, and he (not Will) is the one to set it up. A little research would have gone a long way to making this book so much better… but as a fun aside… Do Scratch ‘n Sniff stickers come in gasoline and smelly socks?

Conclusion

The above paragraphs sound like I hated the book. In fact, I didn’t hate it at all. I had a really hard time with some ideas within, and I’m always very frustrated if an author decides not to do their homework. But it’s a fun way to spend some time, and it’s written in an engaging style that made me smile. I grew to love Will and Cecily and their friends. Even Will’s Dad grew on me. Take a ride with Will, Cecily and their friends; it’s a mildly wild one.

3/5 stars.

Have you read this book or any of the others I’ve reviewed? Leave a comment in their comment sections, and let’s chat about it!

I first heard of the Swedish author Fredrik Backman when Audible had his first novel, “A Man Called Ove”, on a Daily Deal. It was such a charm of a novel that I eagerly snapped up every other book he’d written that had been translated into English. Backman has a knack of fleshing out characters, giving them nuance with turns of phrase that make you laugh out loud or stop in your tracks because that’s absolutely 100% how you feel.

“Britt-Marie was Here” spins off from Backman’s previous novel, “My Grandmother Asked me to Tell you She’s Sorry”. While I read both books, Britt-Marie was here stands sturdily on its own two feet.

About the Book

From the best-selling author of the “charming debut” (People) A Man Called Ove and My Grandmother Asked Me to Tell You She’s Sorry, a heartwarming and hilarious story of a reluctant outsider who transforms a tiny village and a woman who finds love and second chances in the unlikeliest of places.
Britt-Marie can’t stand mess. She eats dinner at precisely the right time and starts her day at six in the morning because only lunatics wake up later than that. And she is not passive-aggressive. Not in the least. It’s just that sometimes people interpret her helpful suggestions as criticisms, which is certainly not her intention.
But at 63, Britt-Marie has had enough. She finally walks out on her loveless 40-year marriage and finds a job in the only place she can: Borg, a small, derelict town devastated by the financial crisis. For the fastidious Britt-Marie, this new world of noisy children, muddy floors, and a roommate who is a rat (literally) is a hard adjustment.
As for the citizens of Borg, with everything that they know crumbling around them, the only thing that they have left to hold on to is something Britt-Marie absolutely loathes: their love of soccer. When the village’s youth team becomes desperate for a coach, they set their sights on her. She’s the least likely candidate, but their need is obvious, and there is no one else to do it.
Thus begins a beautiful and unlikely partnership. In her new role as reluctant mentor to these lost young boys and girls, Britt-Marie soon finds herself becoming increasingly vital to the community. And, even more surprisingly, she is the object of romantic desire for a friendly and handsome local policeman named Sven. In this world of oddballs and misfits, can Britt-Marie finally find a place where she belongs?
Zany and full of heart, Britt-Marie Was Here is a novel about love and second chances and about the unexpected friendships we make that teach us who we really are and the things we are capable of doing.

It Takes a Village

This book is not about soccer (football, I know, but I’m Canadian, okay?). Yes, soccer is played, talked about, argued over, disdained and loved. But this book is not about soccer as much as it is about Borg, the charming, economically depressed town where (to paraphrase one character) you don’t have the luxury to choose your best friend, because even if he’s a criminal he’s the one who helped carry your brother on his back to escape your abusive father. No one is as they seem  – in all the right ways. The community comes together to support the soccer team, not just because it’s soccer (though everyone but Britt-marie loves football), but because it’s all about supporting Borg… and don’t you dare mention that team from “town.”

More than One Disabled Character

There’s much disability representation in this book. It’s clear that Britt-Marie lives with OCD – compulsive list-taking, cleaning, etc. When I started reading this book, I got incredibly frustrated with the frequent repetitions and rationalizations, until I took a step back and realized that Backman was getting inside Britt-marie’s head – things had to be done a certain way, because there’s no other way to do them.

Other characters use wheelchairs or are blind, and are in various stages on the journey to disability-acceptance. I grew frustrated with the fact that we never know the wheelchair user’s name (“Somebody”), and yet I wonder if it stems from Britt-marie’s thought process of first impressions or memories continuing to colour their interactions.

Borg, overall, seems to be accessible for “Somebody” to move in her wheelchair. She runs the pizzeria/post office/hospital/whatever, doing what needs doing to help keep the town going. It’s clear she has a massive drinking problem, but whether that’s disability or economically related, I couldn’t say. She’s plucky and resourceful and very comfortable with who she is, and as a character (though I never knew her name) I adored her.

Bank: “I’m not BLIND… I’m Visually Impaired”

Bank is not a major player in Britt-Marie’s story, but she plays a crucial role. She is losing her vision as an adult, and based on her overall grouchy demeanor, she does not appear to have come to a place of acceptance. Bank goes around town with a walking stick that she pokes or hits people with at various convenient opportunities, and totes around a little dog (though very clearly stating that it’s not a guide dog, it’s just a dog). Her home is filthy, and Britt-Marie suspects it’s because she can’t see it, but Bank cooks for herself and travels throughout the small town with a walking cane – not a white cane – because of a bad leg.

Bank played soccer as a youth and was really really good, and – vision or not – when she gets a chance to be an official coach of the Borg team for the upcoming indoor cup, she throws her history into the faces of officials that believe the team is useless. She doesn’t listen to anyone who thinks she can’t do something because she can’t see (though in Borg that’s very few people), but quietly and grumpily and with pluck just goes out and does them.

The reader in me finds her character fascinating and nuanced. The blind person in me, however, is extremely conflicted by Backman’s choices for her. Britt-marie points out to Bank where all the former soccer pictures were hung on her walls while thinking that she keeps a dirty house because of course she can’t see it. And I cringed at Bank’s “accidental” pokes and swats with her stick – in front of a policeman, no less.

Conclusion

I love the author’s way of turning individuals’ quirks into strengths, of cracking open the shells of people who annoyed me with their habits or attitudes. But everyone has wisdom to share if you just look for it. With a few hiccups along the way, Britt-Marie was here shows just how much we all can impact each other by simply being there.

3.5/5 stars.

Who doesn’t like a good mystery? years ago, that’s all I read. One day I realized I was moving away from the genre because I got tired of the shoot-’em-up finales where someone always wound up dead. But years ago, when this book was first released, I read it and loved it because it featured a blind protagonist with a job and everything! I decided recently to re-read and review it on this blog… have my views changed?

The Fault Tree

By: Louise Ure

For one woman, the dark is a dangerous place to be, and it’s the one place she cannot escape. Arizona auto mechanic Cadence Moran is no stranger to darkness. She was blinded in a horrific car accident eight years ago that also took the life of her three-year-old niece. She knows she was only partially to blame, but that doesn’t make the loss any easier to bear. She’s learned to get by, but there are still painful memories. When she is almost run down by a speeding car on the way home from work, Cadence at first thinks that she is the victim of road rage or a bad driver. But that’s not the case. In fact, she is the only witness to the murder of her elderly neighbor, and now the killer believes that she’s seen the getaway car. Louise Ure paints the glare of a Southwestern summer with the brush of a blind woman’s darkness in this novel of jeopardy and courage…. and the fine line between them – as Cadence fights to stop a killer she can’t see.

(Second) First Impressions

The first thing I noticed was that this book had no cheesy title about sight, darkness, or vision. Most books that have blind protagonists fall into cliched titles like this, I was thrilled that Louise Ure chose to forego this. Instead, she uses the “Fault Tree” to symbolize guilt, punishment (by oneself or others) and pennence. The second was the fact that Cadence is a tough-talking blind woman with an unconventional job as a car mechanic. The third was the fact that she truly hadn’t come to terms with her blindness.

Word Pictures

Louise Ure paints verbal word pictures of the Arizona desert. It’s rugged, beautiful, harsh landscapes are described in ways that engage all of the senses, from the prickly cactus to the sounds of the night to the desert heat. Part of this, I am sure, was to get inside of Cadence’s head; partly, I am also sure, because this author loves this land.

Cadence and Discord

I’ve written above about how I love Cadence’s unconventional job. As a blind car mechanic, she doesn’t fall into a stereotypical job, and she’s a true part of the team at the shop. She uses her ears to listen for engine troubles, the other guys help her with visual work. Some might take offense to her nickname (“Stick”) and how incredulous the shop owner was when she applied for a job, but it’s a tough industry and it’s painted realisticly. Cadence travels independently, using her other senses to orient herself. She cooks well, labels things, and does other things that blind people all over the world do.  her brother created a special cane for her because she doesn’t like the white ones (this was, again, written at a time before coloured or customized canes were more common), and he takes her flying in an airplane to celebrate her birthday every year (something that comes in handy later).

That being said, I have HUGE problems with Cadence. This book may have been written before the iPhone became mainstream, but computers were definitely in use, and Cadence chooses not to use them. She touches peoples’ faces (sometimes without permission) and doesn’t seem to want anyone else to know that she’s blind. This last point puts her in danger when a killer thinks that she’s seen him leave the scene of a crime.

Other Frustrations

The heightened-other-senses trope. Can it just die already? Cadence smells things, feels things, hears things, and relies on them too much. Sometimes she’s right and (thankfully) sometimes she realizes that they’re just excess information. But the police either dismiss her outright or they think she’s got super-powers.

About three quarters of the way through the book, we know who the murderer is, and we know why. The last quarter is devoted to the police interviewing neighbors and family, while Cadence finds herself in the crosshairs of a murderer. Cadence shows terrific problem-solving skills to get herself and her niece out of a jam, but some of it stretches credibility.

Conclusion

It’s not a bad way to spend an afternoon, reading this book. You need to stretch credibility pretty far, but the descriptions of the Arizona summer almost carry this book. I found that Cadence, in particular, frustrated me. She would’ve frustrated me as a headstrong sighted character, too, but as a blind one she just made me want to shake her for making things harder on herself.

2.5/5 stars.

Short stories are not normally my preferred reading material. Not long after my trip to New York, I discovered Grand Central, an anthology of unconnected stories taking place at New York’s Grand Central Station on one day in September 1945. I loved New York so much, and have a serious fascination with the post-War period, so of course I had to read it. Little did I know that I would find one story with a blind character that would leave me scrambling to discover the author.

“The Branch of Hazel” by Sarah McCoy was that story.

It is less about the blind man, but by how his brief interaction with a woman formerly part of the Lebensborn program changed her life.

A man and a woman meet on a train. It is not a love story; he is already married, and she’s been so used by men. But he enables her to see that where she’s been and where she’s going are both so similar and so different.

This story is hard to read, particularly as it puts to voice many of the ideas about disability that are faced by disabled people today. The woman on the train had two children in the Lebensborn program, one of whom had been taken away for being a “Mongoloid”. The businessman on the train is impeccably dressed, with perfect manners; he faces life with realism and optimism – and discrimination with firmness and grace – that is both fairly unique and yet sets him up to be the “angelic blind character” that sets my teeth on edge. He notices her perfume because his mother used to wear it, he knows what direction the wind is blowing based on other factors, and my city-slicker thinking makes me wonder if such observational skills really did exist in that time and place.

Ultimately, this man – with a mind for business, a wife and son at home, and the words of a priest – opened this woman’s eyes to a new way of life. Without spoiling other elements to this story, I’m glad it was his openness and patience that pushed her forward into a new way of thinking.

4/5 stars.